


Liesmith

by Rebecca Hb (beckyh2112)



Category: Thor (2011)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-24
Updated: 2011-09-24
Packaged: 2017-10-24 00:27:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beckyh2112/pseuds/Rebecca%20Hb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-movie. A take on the myth of Loki getting his mouth sewn shut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Liesmith

Loki runs. Every step threatens to send him tumbling; the paths through the rocky crags of Svartalfheim only look stable. Loose stones slide under his feet, and it's all he can do to slide with them _just enough_. If he falls, he might be lucky enough to go over the edge of a cliff.

If he falls and isn't lucky, the dwarves will catch him.

The bag with his winnings thumps against his back, the folded ship stealing his breath with every strike, golden boar bristles tearing his cloak to ruins and **please** don't let them destroy the bag! If he can't get his treasures back to Asgard, then this whole trip will be wasted!

Stones skid under his feet, and he stumbles. A muttered word creates a duplicate, a gesture hampered by the bag he carries cloaks him in invisibility, and he keeps running. Dark spots dance at the edge of his vision; he is using too much magic.

He doesn't look back when he hears the shouts of triumph, definitely doesn't look back when they turn to howls of rage.

The Bifrost site is still miles ahead.

He almost stumbles again, almost drops the bag, but _Thor_ wouldn't do either. Father would not appreciate him losing when he has already done all the real work. This is just running, not fighting. Loki can run.

Even if he should fight. Sons of Odin fought, they didn't flee.

Loki knows what the dwarves intend to do with him when they catch him. He runs faster.

***

The Bifrost site is just beyond this twisting gorge. But Loki's feet slow and his eyes study the path. Are there footsteps in the dust besides his? Does he hear whispers on the wind? Everything in him says **this** is where to set an ambush. It's the only way Loki can go, though, without climbing through knife-sharp obsidian and smoking sulfur springs.

There will be no help from Asgard. He told Heimdall he meant to play some trickery, and the guardian turned his eyes away from Loki then. But if he calls Heimdall's name, surely he will see Loki's predicament...

Loki grits his teeth. Oh yes, having his brother and their friends ride to his rescue will be _such_ a fitting cap to this little adventure. He'll take the dwarves over Sif's mockery and Thor's unintentionally hurtful teasing.

Well, he knows he's walking into a trap. He can deal with this.

***

"I was expecting something more... elegant," he says.

Rocks fill the gorge, blocking it off almost completely. The pile is jumbled enough he can scramble up it if he likes.

He doesn't like. Sitting atop it is the dwarven smith Eitri and his brother Brokk. The dwarves grin with the kind of satisfied malice Loki himself sometimes feels when he pulls one over on Sif or that idiot Fandral.

"Not all traps have to be elegant," Eitri says as he stands. "This one does the job, cheat."

Loki musters up a smile, his mind racing. "You wound me, good smith. I simply did not wish you to overstep the bounds of our wager. You won my neck, not my life."

The dwarves are so close together, there is barely room for a sword to pass between them. Even if he creates a magical duplicate to distract them, all they have to do is stand there. He will have to pass them, and he hasn't the energy to cast a spell that would make his body as solid as the wind.

"Aye, silvertongue, and I did." The dwarf's eyes narrow. "It seems to me the Allfather would make war with Svartalfheim if we killed his son, too. As you so well pointed out."

Loki bows without taking his eyes off the dwarves. It's words, he decides. He just has to play rightly with his words, and he'll keep his neck and pass freely through to Asgard with his treasures. "I do not want any unneeded harm to befall this land."

"Sweet words, Odinson." Eitri folded his arms. "Words will get you killed one day."

"Today?" He asks lightly, as if he is merely curious.

"No," the dwarf growls. "But I'll have some punishment from you, Loki Liesmith, and you'll not pass onto your bridge until you submit to it."

Liesmith. Now _that's_ an interesting epithet. Loki tries not to preen - he is never been anything other than Loki Odinsson before. He likes the sound of 'Loki Liesmith'.

"These are gifts for my people in Asgard," he says, lifting the bag from his shoulder. "Do you intend to renege on that, Eitri?"

"I do not. I will do you no permanent harm, either, Odinsson."

There is an ugly look to the dwarf's face that does not reassure Loki at all. Still, getting away with his treasures and his life is better than he hoped. On the grasping hand, dwarves are vindicative, and he did cheat them.

"You're not going to get home any other way, godling," Brokk said, speaking for the first time. "You might as well show _some_ courage."

Loki's spine stiffens, and he squares his shoulders. It doesn't matter that he knows this is exactly the sort of goad that would work on Thor. He's always been tricky and sly; he uses magic rather than strength of arms in his battles. Never mind he wins, he wins like a _coward_. How can a son of Odin be so?

He scrambles up the rocks to the dwarven brothers. "Well then. Let's get this over with."

Eitri grins and gestures for Loki to sit. "I don't want to hear any more of your pretty lies, Odinsson."

His hand shoots out and grabs Loki by the throat, and Brokk holds out a gold needle threaded with a gold wire. Loki's eyes widen, and he kicks out. His foot thumps against chain, and then Eitri's hand tightens on his throat until black swarms across his vision.

"You'll find a way to cut it, I expect," Eitri says conversationally as he presses the needle against Loki's skin.

The needle going through his lips makes Loki cry out until Brokk holds his jaw shut. The wire runs smoothly through his skin until the knot strikes against the hole, and tears spring into his eyes. Then the dwarf turns the needle back down.

***

Tears and blood mingle on Loki's face, and his mouth is agony. Eitri has tied off the golden wire and snipped the ends so the knots are not so noticeable. He is a dwarven smith, after all, and even in this, his work must be perfect.

"Don't scream," Brokk says almost kindly. "It'll pull the stitches."

They leave him there on the rocks with his bag of treasures. It's hours until his mouth stops bleeding sluggishly, but he is an Asgardian. He can lose blood for days without it being bothersome.

It's not until he stumbles onto the Bifrost site that he realizes he can't call for Heimdall.

He breaks down then, dropping his treasures and dropping to his knees. His hands go to his mouth, dextrous fingers feeling the golden stitches. They prickle with magic; it will take more than a knife to cut them.

It's getting dark.

He is heartsick and weary. He cannot deal with this problem right now, so he makes a little shelter among the rocks and tugs his cloak tightly about his shoulders. In the morning. He'll face this in the morning.

***

Dawn is accompanied by the roar of the Bifrost, and Loki scrambles to his feet. Father! Father has come for him! Father will cut this wire free from his mouth!

When the blaze of the Bifrost clears, it is his brother and their friends standing there. Loki wants to smile, but it stretches the stitches too much. Thor is even better than Father, Thor will want to **punish** the dwarves for what they did!

Thor looks at him and- laughs. "Little brother, what did you _do_?"

Loki stares as Volstagg rumbles with laughter, Fandral chuckles, Sif has to cover her face as she laughs, and even Hogun grins.

They're laughing. At him.

"I thought you'd gotten into real trouble," Thor says, coming up to sling an arm around his shoulder. Loki is too shocked to evade it - how could they be _laughing_? Weren't they his **friends**?

He feels- betrayed.

He doesn't resist as Thor guides him back to the Bifrost site, too stunned to do anything more than clutch his bag of treasures. The golden hair he'd had commissioned for Sif, the spear that would never fail in its aim for Father, the wind-swift golden boar for Volstagg, the ship that could hold all the hosts of Asgard or fold down to fit in a pouch for Thor, the golden arm-ring that would produce eight similar rings every ninth night for Fandral, the glass blade as strong as steel that would pierce any magics for Hogun - his treasures he had connived to win for **them**.

They laughed.

His arms tighten around his bag of treasures. Well. What was one more set of trinkets in his chambers?

  
**-End-**   



End file.
